


Sorting Hat

by meansovermotive



Category: Cormoran Strike Series - Robert Galbraith
Genre: Banter, F/M, Harry Potter References, Humor, Post-Troubled Blood, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-12
Updated: 2021-01-12
Packaged: 2021-03-16 21:22:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,399
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28713495
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meansovermotive/pseuds/meansovermotive
Summary: Summary: Robin, appalled that Cormoran doesn’t know his Hogwarts House, makes him take the Sorting Hat test from Pottermore; this leads to banter, reflections and maybe a lesson or two on judging a book by its cover.
Relationships: Robin Ellacott/Cormoran Strike
Comments: 42
Kudos: 47





	Sorting Hat

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hidetheteaspoons](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hidetheteaspoons/gifts), [mcclinds](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mcclinds/gifts), [kenzthepea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kenzthepea/gifts).



> Hello!
> 
> This BRILLIANT prompt was suggested by Greenie (@hidetheteaspoons), based on @mcclinds’s idea. I had a blast talking this with you guys and kenz the other day, hope you enjoy this!! (also don’t be mad at me midway. There’s a plan XD)
> 
> This has been by far the most collaborative fic I’ve written, and it was such a blast! Thank you so much to everyone who helped with discussions, crowdsourcing Strike’s answers and especially, MANY thanks to @CupofTia, who gave me very thoughtful and kind feedback, and to @HarrogateBelmont who betaed this and made such amazing and helpful suggestions!! I learned a lot! (also sparing you of reading an eyebrow workout so you should be thankful too)  
> I was worried that this was too long for what it is, but I trusted their kind feedback that I could post it more or less like it was. 😊
> 
> So for this, I did the current Pottermore test and tried to answer accurately what Strike’s answers would be and put the actual result here (“for science” lol). Like I said the guys on the Denmark Street discord helped me - I did retake the test for the sake of accuracy, based on the one answer I had obviously gotten wrong, but then it had a few different questions. I lucked out though that they were a lot more straightforward (in my mind, anyway)! As for the results, well...I guess you’ll see!
> 
> Hope you enjoy it and that I don’t upset too many people 😅 this could totally be called “fan service” but oh well…
> 
> Disclaimer: opinions on HP movies are my own 🤣

“I can’t believe you don’t know your Hogwarts house!” Robin said, incredulous.

Strike had just approached her desk, carrying two steaming mugs of tea, and, upon catching a glimpse of her screen, had expressed curiosity on what exactly she was investigating.

He stared at her, frowning.

“The fuck would I need to know that for?”

She grunted.

“Because! Everybody does! It’s a whole thing.”

“A _thing_?” he asked, amused.

“Yes, a _thing,_ ” she replied, exasperated. “You ask a person what her house is, and then you get a glimpse at her personality.”

Strike snorted.

“Oh, hell no,” he said. “I’ve had it with the astrology bullshit already.”

Robin rolled her eyes.

“It’s not like _that_ ”, she said. “Since we’re not, you know, _actual wizards.”_ She said pointedly. “So you aren’t _born_ with a house, you choose it based on who you are, what you value. It’s really cool.”

Strike frowned.

“What do you mean, you _choose_ it? Weren’t you going to take a test?”

“Well, yes. But the test is more for fun, anyway, or if you can’t decide. No one who read the books or even saw the movies would really change their houses based on a test. Not even the ‘official’ one.”

“Um,” Strike said, noncommittally, averting his eyes.

Robin narrowed hers.

“You _have_ seen Harry Potter, though, right?”

Strike sighed.

“I’ve…definitely seen one of them, I think? Or parts of it, at least…” He rubbed his neck.

“Honestly, Cormoran! Have you been living under a rock?”

“No, but I was in a military base.”

“Your tv doesn’t only work for Arsenal matches, you know.”

He shrugged.

“Not really my thing, fantasy.”

“Oh, no, you’d love Harry Potter. I guarantee it.” She paused, studying him while a smile played in her lips. “I think we have a situation to correct, here, haven’t we?”

Strike grunted.

“You’re not going to make me sit through seventeen bloody movies of people flying in brooms.”

“Eight movies.”

Strike raised his eyebrow at her pointedly, and Robin chuckled, giving up.

“Fine. I’ll leave you in your ignorance. _If,”_ she added, because he was already sighing with relief. “You do the house sorting test.”

He considered for a moment. Seemed harmless enough.

“Deal.”

\--

Robin settled in front of her computer, pulling up the Pottermore Sorting Hat test.

Strike pulled his chair to sit next to her.

“What are these houses again? There’s four, right?”

She looked at him.

“So you _do_ know something.”

He shrugged.

“You pick that stuff up unwittingly.”

She studied him for a moment, then, smiling, explained, “Yes, there’s four. It works like the traditional house system for boarding schools, except the houses represent different personal qualities. And the sorting process is carried out by a charmed hat.”

“So pretty much the same.”

“So the thing is that each house accepts students with particular qualities, because the Founders… well, I’ll spare you the details.”

Strike sighed with visible relief.

“Anyway, there’s Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Slytherin and Hufflepuff,” she said, and paused. “Which movie was it again that you saw some of?”

Strike stared at her.

“Are you expecting me to actually know the name, or?”

“You do have a good memory, so yes, actually.”

He sighed.

“Pretty sure it was…Harry Potter and some magic shit.”

Robin’s gaze shot daggers at him. He just looked at her helplessly.

“At least tell me something you remember, then. You _must_ remember something,” she added, shooting him a frustrated look, but secretly amused.

“Uh… I think there were dragons?”

“Ugh, _Goblet of Fire_ , really?” she said, making a face.

Strike took a sip of his tea.

“I thought you liked those movies?”

Robin tilted her head.

“I mean, the movies are okay. They’re fun, mostly. But they messed up the story and characters a lot. Well, except the first two… and I actually liked the last two. _Goblet of Fire_ is really a bit of a mess, though.”

“And you want me to watch them, why?”

“Well, like I told you, they’re fun. But if you’re a fan of the books, half the fun will be pointing out the mistakes.”

“And you are, apparently. A fan.”

“Well, like I said. Who isn’t?” she said, and Strike shot her a knowing look. “Fine,” Robin conceded, sighing. “I was 13 when the first one was out, and I grew up with them. Each release was an event for me and my brothers. The books taught me a lot, and the characters are like childhood friends. Happy now?”

Strike smiled fondly at her.

“Just tell me about these bloody houses already.”

She smiled back at him.

“Okay, so do you remember anything about the houses from that movie?”

“Uh… not really. Some different colors?” Robin chuckled.

“Stellar attention to detail, detective.”

“Well, _that_ means you get to tell me all about it. Which I’m guessing you’ll hate.” He grinned.

“Actually, I have an idea,” she said, ignoring him. “Since you know next to nothing, you can do the test _first_ , without bias, and then later I’ll explain it.”

“Fine by me,” Strike said, shrugging, but his grin betrayed endearment at Robin’s enthusiasm.

“Okay, then, here we go. First question: Dawn or Dusk?”

Strike sat back in his chair, surprised. Perhaps this would be more reasonable than he thought.

“Dusk.”

Robin chuckled.

“Sleepyhead.”

“Not fair,” he replied, a little indignantly. “Need I remind you I woke up before dawn every day at the army.”

“Well, yes, not exactly by choice, was it?” Robin said, laughing, but Strike’s brow furrowed and she stopped. “Fine, then. Why dusk?”

“It’s my favorite time of day in London,” he replied. “Work day over, pubs and streets buzzing, the street lights on the old buildings…” He shrugged. “Something about it that’s reassuring.”

That surprised Robin; she was expecting a practical response.

“That’s… very thoughtful, actually.” She smiled, then laughed at his smug expression, before turning to the screen again.

“Okay… second question. Which creature,” she started, and Strike made a face. “Would you most like to study: Merpeople, Centaurs, Werewolves or Vampires.”

“I bloody knew that first question was to give a false sense of security,” Strike said.

“It’s a wizarding world, Strike, what did you expect?” Robin laughed. “So. Which one?”

Strike pondered for a moment, his brow furrowed.

“Centaurs.”

Robin frowned.

“Really? Why?”

“There’s something interesting their classical myths,” he shrugged. “Like Chiron. Such a wise mind in a bestial body.” Robin cocked her head, curious. “Why? Did you think I’d choose what, vampires?”

“Well, no,” she said. “But Merpeople are also from the classics. I thought you’d go with that, being a Cornish man and all.”

Strike was silent for a moment.

“Yeah, you do have a point,” he said. “To be honest, I used to be sort of fascinated with that myth… The mermaids from the Odyssey, for instance. Enchanting men with their singing, and whatnot.” He paused. “There’s a sort of pull to that idea, yeah? Like the ‘call of the void’ you get when you’re standing on a cliff.” Robin nodded, listening with attention to his words. “But then,” he continued, “I guess that idea of… _enchantment_ , has lost its appeal to me since. It may seem appealing, to be thus transfixed, but look closely and there’s nothing really of substance there. It’s just lies and perfumery.” As he spoke, he held her gaze steadily, and she wondered if she was imagining that he seemed to be trying to tell her something.

Robin swallowed.

“Yes, it does make sense,” she said, a little absently, then paused. “Although in Harry Potter that’s not really merfolk, I guess. That’s more like Veelas.” She frowned, thinking about Ron Weasley almost jumping from a stadium box into the field below, and Hermione’s flared indignation.

“Vee what?”

Robin chuckled. “Nevermind. Centaurs it is, then,” she said turning to the computer again, while Strike studied her with attention, wondering if she had caught his meaning.

“So next question,” she continued. “How would you like to be remembered: The Great, The Wise, The Bold, or The Good?”

“Hm,” said Strike. “What do you think?” he asked, grinning.

Robin, though, considered the question seriously.

“Well, definitely not Great,” she started, and he nodded. “I also don’t think Bold.”

“It does sound a bit like a euphemism for stupid,” Strike agreed, and Robin snorted.

“Now… Not that you wouldn’t want to be perceived as a good man, generally,” she continued. “But a title like that would probably mean you’re leaning for forgiveness and kindness… and I think you’re more concerned with fairness. So, I’d say Wise,” she concluded.

Strike nodded at her, impressed.

“Spot on.”

She beamed at him, pulling the next question.

“Would you rather be: Liked, trusted, feared, or envied.” Then, without giving time for him to say anything, she added, turning to him, “Trusted. Right?”

His lips formed a lopsided grin.

“Starting to get a little worried, here, Ellacott,” he said. “You know too much already.”

“Not thanks to you, that’s for sure. Oh, this is an interesting one,” she said, after a moment of scrolling. “What musical instrument most pleases your ear: Piano, drums, violin, or trumpet.”

“What, no magic tambourine?”

“Afraid not,” said Robin, shaking her head and forming her lips into a mock-pout.

He laughed.

“And no guess?”

“I mean, the drums, _obviously_ ”, she said, rotating her chair to face him.

“Right again. That’s why I chose this location, actually, for the constant drum music. Helps me think.”

“Here I was thinking it was the safety of the stairwell.”

He laughed heartily.

“Piano. As you probably know, too.”

“Not gonna answer this time. Let you think that you can be a bit mysterious,” she said, winking at him. That mischievous grin appeared in his lips again.

“What’s now, broom versus magic carpet?”

Robin chuckled.

“No, but I’d love to see the answer to _that_. Oooh”, she said, excitedly, reading the question. “You’re gonna like this one.”

“Doubt it,” he scoffed, but was secretly curious.

“Let’s see, then. ‘Late at night, walking alone down the street, you hear a peculiar cry that you believe to have a magical source. Do you:

  1. Draw your wand and stand your ground?
  2. Withdraw into the shadows to await developments, while mentally reviewing the most appropriate defensive and offensive spells, should trouble occur?
  3. Draw your wand and try to discover the source of the noise?
  4. Proceed with caution, keeping one hand on your concealed wand and an eye out for any disturbance?’



She looked at him, interested.

He considered it for only a moment.

“The last one.”

Robin snorted.

“You would _not._ ”

“Yes, I bloody would,” he insisted. “Proceed with caution…”

Robin started laughing.

“Honestly, Cormoran. We both know you’d try to discover what it is.”

“I most certainly wouldn’t.”

She looked at him with arms crossed, still smiling and trying not to laugh harder at Strike’s surly expression.

“Fine,” he admitted, annoyed. “But that’s because I’m a stubborn prick,” he added, seriously. “Because the sensible choice, honestly, would have been… actually, the second one, I think, would have been the best” he said, pointing his thick finger at the screen.

Robin leaned back in her chair.

“You _are_ a stubborn prick,” she said, grinning, “And I’ve learned from the best, haven’t I?”

Strike frowned, seeming suddenly agitated, if not angry.

“No, actually, I’m serious about this, Robin—what’s so bloody funny?”

It took her a moment to stop laughing enough to talk.

“God” she said, wiping tears, “you _are_ serious, aren’t you?” she said, and took a breath.

“Fine, Strike,” she continued. “I promise you that if I ever hear a _peculiar cry_ that I believe to have a _magical source_ , I will withdraw into the shadows and mentally review the _most appropriate spells._ ” She paused, trying and failing, again, to suppress giggles. “Is that what you want to hear?”

“Very funny,” he said, trying to sound annoyed but betrayed by the smile in his lips. “Fine, pull the next bloody question. We’ll come back to this, though,” he added.

“I’ll see if I can find a Defense Against the Dark Arts manual for the discussion,” Robin replied, grinning, but then she turned to the screen and her face lit up.

“Ooh, I love this one. Which pet would you like—“

“No pet.”

“That’s not an option, Mr. Grumpy,” she said, amused. “You have to pick”.

“Why the fuck would I want to tend to a bloody dragon?”

“While I personally think a dragon would be very useful to have,” said Robin, “it’s obviously not a pet. Unless you’re Hagrid, I guess,” she said, and then paused, looking at him with a weird expression.

“What?”

“Nothing,” she said, but still stared curiously at him for another moment.

“So if not dragons,” Strike said, making a mental note to search for this Hagrid character later. “What sort of thing would I have to deal with?”

She checked the page again.

“Choices are… Cat, Toad and Owl.”

Strike just stared at her.

“Oh C’mon,” she said. “It’s not that hard. You could get an owl, owls are useful.”

“How the fuck are owls useful?” he asked, frowning.

“You can use them to send messages.”

“You--what? Like carrier pigeons?”

“Exactly. It’s the wizard’s mail system.”

“You’re telling me,” Strike said, his voice slightly louder. “That people have magic and wands and shit, and they send messages with bloody _carrier pigeons_?”

“Owls. But yes.”

“ _Why?”_

Robin shrugged.

“It makes sense in the context of the novels. She made it so there’s no semblance of technology in the wizarding world; things are either analogical or magic. I like it, to be honest, it makes it sort of timeless. Adds to the magic and romance of it all. Since they have to wait for the messages to be delivered, they actually write real letters... If they could send it in real time, no one would write letters, they would write short notes.” She paused, studying him for a moment. “I would think _you_ ’d certainly see the appeal in that, by the way. Weren’t you complaining about ‘bloody digitalization’ the other day?”

Strike stared at her, his mouth slightly aghast.

“Don’t recall,” he said. “But yeah, seems like a smart choice. Narrative wise.”

“Of course it is,” Robin said, smiling. “That woman is a genius. I’m telling you, I think you’d identify with these books.”

“Don’t push it,” Strike said, but he was starting to get curious. “Fine, you’re right then. At least owls are useful.”

“All right,” said Robin, clicking in the option. “Next question, Left or Right.”

“Right.”

“Easy enough, for once. Ooh” she added, excitedly. “Ready for the results?”

“Already?”

Robin turned her chair to face him and shot him a knowing look.

“I _knew_ you were having fun.”

“ _You’re_ having fun. That’s obvious enough,” he said, with a surly expression.

“ _I_ ’m not denying. Well,” she announced, “Let’s see what the Sorting Hat has to say about Cormoran Blue Strike.”

Robin clicked the button for the results, and they waited for the page to load.

“Where’s those drums when you need them,” quipped Strike, before the page loaded to a red color scheme, where big letters displayed: _Gryffindor_.

“Ooh”, said Robin, staring at the screen and then turning to Strike. “Gryffindor. Yes, I suppose it does make sense.”

“Now I kinda wish you’d told me what it meant earlier.”

Robin smiled.

“Nothing to worry about. Gryffindor,” she said, “is all about bravery. It accepts students with daring, nerve and chivalry”.

“Huh”, said Strike. “And you think it fits me?” he asked, curious.

“Well, I do think you have all those traits,” she said.

Seeing his smug face, she added,

“Oh, don’t flatter yourself. It’s not all good, either. They are brave, but sometimes to the point of recklessness. And they can be a little short-tempered, too.”

“Recklessness? So I’m guessing that’s your house, too.”

“Funny. Like I said, I had stellar training.”

Strike grinned.

“But I don’t know,” continued Robin, “You do have those things, but I don’t know that they’re the most important for you. I’m not sure.”

“Well, what are the other choices, then?”

“There’s Ravenclaw,” she said. “Which is most concerned with wit, learning and wisdom. Intellect.”

“A house for A students?”

“Not exactly,” Robin said. “The top student in Harry’s year was Hermione, who was actually in Gryffindor. But she was more concerned with facts and grades. Ravenclaws are more concerned with independent thinking, original ideas… they value learning for the sake of learning.”

“Hm,” said Strike. “Dunno if I’d fall in that.”

“Yeah,” said Robin. “I think you’re more pragmatic, aren’t you?”

He nodded.

“Then there’s Slytherin.” She turned to him. “Nah.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“What, I can’t be a Slytherin?”

“Not that you don’t have some qualities,” she said. “Slytherins are all about cunning, ambition, leadership and resourcefulness. But what that means is that they tend to put their goals first. The hat actually says they use any means to achieve their ends, although I wouldn’t think that’s necessarily true.”

“Well,” said Strike. “I agree that it’s not really my priorities, there.”

“Right,” she said. “Then… There’s Hufflepuff.” She considered him for a moment. “I wonder…”

He watched her, curious.

“Hufflepuffs,” she said, “are just and loyal. They value hard work, dedication, patience, and fair play.”

“Sounds interesting,” he said. “And the bad stuff?”

“Well, they can be narrow minded; think in black or white. And not a great reputation, there. It’s the least popular house, actually… In the universe of the books, at least.”

Strike frowned.

“Yeah? Why?”

“Well, all the others have stricter criteria, I guess, for accepting students - but Hufflepuff’s Founder was like, nope, I’ll teach anyone that wants to learn. So they got this fame of being ‘the rest’. Also their good-naturedness tends to make them seem a little silly. Doormaty.”

“Got it,” said Strike. “So basically we have, in order, stubborn pricks, insufferable tossers, sleazy arseholes, and stupid duffers.”

Robin’s mouth fell open.

“Cormoran!” she protested, horrified.

He grinned and raised his hands in defense.

“Just kidding, calm down. But honestly, I don’t see what the big deal is with these houses.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s not like they’re exclusive qualities. Everyone has traits of at least a couple. Hell, I could make a strong case for you for any of the houses.”

“That’s not true.”

“Try me, then.”

She chuckled.

“Fine. Slytherin.”

“You’re ambitions and the most resourceful person I’ve ever met.”

She smiled, blushing, but carried on.

“Ravenclaw.”

“Bloody brilliant.”

“Hufflepuff.”

“Fair and kind to every bloody person, to an annoying degree.”

“Gryffindor.”

“Stubborn prick,” he said, and she raised her eyebrows. “Sorry, I meant ‘daring and brave, sometimes to the point of recklessness’” He grinned. “Am I right, or?”

Robin, a red color in her cheeks, tilted her head.

“Well, okay, you kind of are,” she said. “But that’s not really the point.” She paused for a moment. “See, in the books, the Sorting Hat is supposed to be able to see, really see into your heart. And there’s people who put the hat on, and the result is instantaneous. But I find it really interesting that for the only person we really get to see what happens in the process, which is Harry, it happens differently. Because, I think, it mirrors what happens on this side, with the readers”.

She looked ahead, deep in thought, and Strike watched her, waiting.

“In Harry’s case, he actually makes a choice. The Hat sees potential in him for Slytherin, offers him promises of great success there, but Harry is true to his character, and chooses Gryffindor, instead. Later on, many people continue to see the Slytherin in Harry, and it’s not that that’s a bad thing, necessarily, but it’s not what _he_ wants, what _he_ values the most. Or, in other words, what he wants to be. She makes this point repeatedly in the series: it’s not our qualities that matter, or what we are born with; it’s what _we_ make from it based on our choices. Ultimately, what each person’s choice of house means is a sort of statement of what they want to make with what they were given.”

Robin paused, seeming to wake up from her reverie, and turned to Strike, who was studying her with deep intensity.

“ _You can’t let your whole life be colored by the circumstances of your conception_ ’”.

Robin was startled by the mention of her own words; she felt a drop in her stomach, afraid that he might be hurt. But then he smiled.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said that day”, he said. “And I’ve realized… that you were right. Not about kids, per se”, he added, “But in a broader sense. Truth is, after Joan…” He paused, sighing and looking away. Robin watched him silently, surprised at this abrupt dive into honesty. “There were some things that became clearer, about what I had chosen to focus on in my life, and what sort of things I glossed over. I think it’s about time that I let the past go and realize it has no real hold over me, any of it.” He turned to Robin. “So, yeah, you were right in calling me out. Thanks for that.”

The beginnings of tears glistened in the corner of Robin’s eyes, and she sat forward slightly in her chair, suppressing a strung urge to hug him.

“I’m _really_ happy to hear that, Cormoran,” she said, her voice tinged with emotion. She hesitated for a moment, but then, before she could second-guess herself, reached for his hand. “I know what that must mean to you and… I’m genuinely happy. For you. Because you do deserve happiness, you know.”

He looked fondly at her.

“Thanks, Robin. Appreciate it,” he said, in a quiet voice.

They looked at each other for a silent, charged moment. Then Robin withdrew her hand.

“So,” he said, clearing his throat. “You say this is a big theme in those books, yeah?” Robin nodded. “Huh. Didn’t expect that for children’s books.”

Robin rolled her eyes.

“Yeah, well, it’s because they’re not really children’s books. The first couple, yes, but they got more mature with each one. They’re about war and loss; finding the truth and doing what is right; and, like I said, dealing with others people’s expectations, even fame, and finding your truth and your place in all that…choosing what you want to make of yourself.”

Strike raised his eyebrows.

“Seems like she could have written my life, then.”

“ _See,_ ” Robin said. “Told you you’d like it.”

“Yeah, perhaps,” Strike said, and then paused. “So what that means is that I’m not necessarily a Gryffindor, then?”

“Well, no. Like I said… tests are fun, but the whole point of it is that you have to make a choice.”

Strike pondered for a moment.

“And what exactly should I take into account, then? How did you choose?”

He seemed, now, surprisingly serious about it, and Robin felt touched.

“The way I see it,” she said, “Is… what is your deepest, truest value? The thing that makes the very core of your beliefs; that guides you, and that you shield from the world so the flame won’t go out. What you that be, for you?”

The answer came quick and serious in his deep, rumbling voice.

“Justice.”

Robin smiled.

“Justice. Yes, that would be you, Cormoran Strike.” She thought for a moment. “Just and fair. Equal treatment; everybody gets their due, good or bad. Yes”, she said with certainty. “That would make you a Hufflepuff.”

He nodded.

“If you say so. I trust you,” he said, and smiled at her. Then he frowned.

“Wait,” he said. “You never told me what your house is.”

Robin grinned.

“And I’m not going to.”

He raised his eyebrow.

“New deal. You guess it. Either you get it right or we watch every single movie.”

“I didn’t agree to _that._ ”

“Oh, you did,” she replied. “You just didn’t realize it.” She winked at him. “I know I already got you curious.”

Strike scoffed, but didn’t say otherwise, either.

“C’mon, then,” he said, taking a look at his watch. “We spent so much time in that thing that it’s almost six already.”

They turned off their computers, and settled things in their desks. When he was done, he turned to Robin and caught her looking at him with a curious expression.

“What?”

“You know, I like knowing you’re a Hufflepuff,” she said. “It means I’m right.”

“Right in what?”

“That you’re a big softy deep down.”

Strike rolled his eyes.

“If that’s the case, I’m thinking I wouldn’t really fit in.”

“Well, you might look a bit intimidating for them,” she said, “But I’m positive you’d be right at home”.

“How so?”

“Their common room is right next to the kitchens.”

Strike shot her an incredulous look.

“Well, you should have led with _that!_ "

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------

_Three weeks later_

They were working when Strike broke the silence, still looking at his screen.

“So, I read it.”

“Read what?” Robin raised her head to him, frowning.

“Harry Potter.”

Her eyebrows shot up.

“You’re kidding.”

He turned to her.

“I am not, actually.”

“You _read_ it? I talked about watching the movies!”

“Well, you said the movies were shit.”

Robin stared at him, wordlessly.

“So what did you think? _I was right_ , wasn’t I?”

“Eh…” he started, tilting his head, but Robin stared at him, her arms crossed.

“Fine” said Strike, chuckling. “It’s good. _Really_ good”, he added, seeing the look on her face. “Predictable, though.”

“ _Predictable?_ ”

“’Course. I saw that Quirrell guy coming miles away.”

“You did _not_.”

“Yes, I bloody did. Pulling distractions, the skittish behavior and stammering?” He sat back in his chair. “Bloke was basically John Bristow in a turban.”

Robin grinned at him, shaking her head.

“Well if you’re _so good_ ,” she said, “Let’s see you figure out who opened the Chamber of Secrets.”

“Working on it.”

Robin laughed, in disbelief.

“Oh, you can bet that when you read Prisoner of Azkaban, you’re taking the Patronus test. By the way, you haven’t taken me up on my bet, have you? No guesses yet.”

He tapped his fingers in his desk.

“No. Mulling it over.”

“So say, Saturday?”

He frowned.

“First movie. 8 p.m. works for me.”

Strike sighed in defeat, barely hiding his smile.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you enjoyed it!  
> About the choices… After mcclinds' and kenz’s passionate defense of Hufflepuff Strike, I just couldn’t do anything else – especially being a badger myself!  
> But I hope the people who made the case for Gryffindor, which is a very solid argument in my book, feel acknowledged in the Pottermore test result. (which, yes, was different from the first one XD but made more sense, upon reflection)
> 
> For Robin though, I thought I’d avoid the minefield haha because I could indeed make strong cases for more than one option and because the only thing I felt strongly in all of this was that, sharing the same core values, they both would fall in the same house. I wasn’t about to claim both of them for Hufflepuff, though XD
> 
> Final nods to @mcclinds mentioning the kitchens (besides the argument for Strike’s house); @pools_of_venetian_blue for remembering Strike liking London at dusk; @HarrogateBelmont for the military base line; and @CupofTia for the comparison to John Bristow.  
> Thanks again!
> 
> This has been fun!


End file.
